Echo
by Imadra Blue
Summary: There are times when Old Ben Kenobi has to remind himself that Luke Skywalker is not his father, but he finds it hard when all Luke does is make him remember. Slash.


**Pairing:** Obi-Wan (Old Ben)/Luke (Obi-Wan/Anakin in the past.)  
**Disclaimer:** Star Wars and all its characters are property of Lucasfilm Ltd. No money is made and no copyright infringement is intended.  
**Warnings:** Cross-gen  
**Notes:** Missing scene from _A New Hope_, set right after Luke returns from the ruins of the Lars homestead.  
**Beta Reader(s):** The very generous Agent Jedi. I also received a little quick advice from the wise Furiosity.

...

The hardest part about looking at Luke Skywalker was trying to remember he was not his father. There was an echo of Anakin in every twitch of his lips, every blink of his eyes, and there were times when Old Ben Kenobi had to bite his tongue, lest he call Luke by his father's name.

There had been a time, many years ago, when Anakin had told Ben that his mother had been killed. Anakin did not go into details, but it was clear that his mother's loss had shaken him. Ben had been known as Obi-Wan then, a man far less wise than he was now, though he'd not thought so at the time. So Obi-Wan had offered Jedi words of wisdom, telling Anakin to rejoice that his mother had become one with the Force and to not mourn her passing. Anakin's expression had gone tight, and he'd walked away, his fists clenched and his bottom lip trembling.

Obi-Wan had not understood Anakin's reaction at the time, but Ben understood it all too well now. He expected that was Qui-Gon's influence, though his former Master had long succumbed to the siren call of the Force, fully joining with it upon the completion of Ben's training in the Way of the Whills a decade past. Yet, Ben always felt that the most important lesson Qui-Gon had taught him during his exile on Tatooine was not of the immortality the Force offered, but of a greater compassion and understanding than he'd possessed before. He'd learned it too late to help Anakin, but perhaps not too late for Luke.

When Luke returned to Ben from his family's homestead in his dusty landspeeder, grief etched into his face and the slump of his shoulders, Ben had no words of wisdom to offer. He had only the truth.

Ben walked over as the youth climbed out of the speeder, already knowing what had happened by the expression on Luke's face - Owen and Beru Lars had been killed. Ben felt a passing sense of loss, but he'd seen so many people he knew die that it felt like an extra grain of sand in the Dune Sea.

"There's nothing you could have done, Luke, had you been there," he said. "You'd have been killed, too, and the droids would be in the hands of the Empire."

Luke stared at him intently, squaring his shoulders, trying to look strong. "I want to come with you to Alderaan. There's nothing here for me now. I want to learn the ways of the Force and become a Jedi like my father."

Ben smiled slightly at the irony in Luke's words. There was enough of Obi-Wan left in Ben to make an internal comment about how Luke should worry about the Jedi part and forget about being like his father, but he didn't voice it. Let Luke remember Anakin Skywalker at his best, not his worst.

Ben put a comforting hand on Luke's shoulder. Behind them, a large bonfire of Jawa bodies blazed in front of the burnt-out sandcrawler. The droids finished stacking the dead over the flames, then turned expectantly to Luke and Ben. Ashes rose into the air, then settled gently onto the sand, gray staining the gold.

"We'll stay here for the night. No one will think to look for us here."

Luke just nodded and shuffled through the sand back to his landspeeder. He reached into the back of the landspeeder, pulling out some of the rations they'd brought from Ben's house. Ben went to help him, finding the gray thermal blankets shoved into a corner in the backseat. It got cold at night on Tatooine, and they'd need the warmth. He cradled them in his arms, trying not to think about all the times he and Anakin had set up camp together, with much the same materials.

When Ben looked up from the blankets, he saw Luke wiping at his face, talking quietly to Threepio. Ben shuddered as a breeze ruffled his hair and sent his robes fluttering, struck by the eerie similarities of Luke to his father. They had the same dark blond hair, the same sky blue eyes, and the same disarming smile. There were differences, too. Luke was smaller and had less grace, as if he was unused to his own body. Despite his eagerness, there was a certain hesitance to him that Anakin had never possessed. There was much of Padmé Amidala in him as well. Ben could almost see her steady gaze peering out from Luke's eyes, almost hear her idealistic speeches in Luke's words. Luke possessed her clear-eyed bravery, her unshakeable faith, but his father's desire for more.

Ben didn't realize he was staring until Luke paused, twisting the handle of the box of rations in his hand. He looked shy all of a sudden, and Ben dropped his gaze. "We should sleep inside the sandcrawler for cover tonight," Ben said after a moment. He studied the sand at his feet, watching as grains of sand rolled across his scuffed boots. He frowned, suddenly ashamed at the state of his worn clothing. He was surprised at himself; he'd stopped caring about his appearance soon after arriving on this starforsaken planet.

Luke was staring at the sandcrawler dubiously when Ben looked up, chewing on his bottom lip. Ben had to consciously remind himself to breathe when an image of Anakin standing in the same position, chewing on his bottom lip as he stared off at a cave they were supposed to sleep in during a long-forgotten mission, came unbidden to his mind. Luke was an avatar of Ben's past, unburying memories with each passing gesture.

"Did you hear me, Luke?"

"Well, yes, but..." Luke licked his lips, glancing back at Ben. "It's burnt out. And Jawas died in there."

"It'll be safe enough for the night. We've removed all their bodies. What are you afraid of?"

"I'm not afraid," said Luke stubbornly. "Not anymore..." He trailed off, looking distant and sad. He suddenly turned and headed to the sandcrawler, wiping at his face again. Little puffs of dust erupted from the sand as he walked.

Ben followed him, watching as Luke stopped outside the entrance to the sandcrawler. He hastily wiped his face with his beige poncho as Ben approached, still clutching the rations box. Ben patted him on the shoulder and shoved the blankets onto the landing. It smelled like oil and exhaust fumes inside, but, thankfully, not blood. "You should tell Artoo to set up a perimeter scan and keep watch for us tonight."

Luke nodded dutifully, turning back to Artoo, then freezing. He snapped his head back to face Ben, eyes wide. "How'd you know he could do that? It's a rare feature on an astromech," he said suspiciously.

Ben's smile never wavered. "Just because I've never owned a droid doesn't mean I'm ignorant of their capabilities."

"Oh. Right." Luke turned back to stare at Artoo. The blue-domed astromech droid beeped softly at Threepio, who kept trying to tell him to be silent and respectful. "I'll tell Threepio to shut down for the night."

"Good idea." Ben didn't add how good an idea it really was, because he was still tempted to carve Threepio in half with his lightsaber. The golden protocol droid had always annoyed him, even when he'd shuffled up to Obi-Wan whenever he'd gone to visit Padmé at her apartment in 500 Republica, insisting he have something to drink even when he hadn't been thirsty.

Ben climbed up into the sandcrawler as Luke shuffled off to talk to the droids. It mortified him to discover his bones creaked and ached; when had he gotten so old? It didn't seem so long ago that he'd been able to leap off tall buildings as graceful as a cat, and now his body protested at the simple act of climbing onto a sandcrawler landing. He sighed and settled back against the thin metal wall in the entranceway. It was large enough for both him and Luke to sleep comfortably, without having to deal with any possible horrors lurking inside that might bother Luke.

He watched Luke set Threepio by the entrance and politely tell him good night. Threepio clicked off a second later. Luke bid Artoo a good night as well. The little droid beeped cheerily at him in response, whistling a bit before humming and setting up the perimeter scan. Anakin had spoken to those very same droids as if they were real people, too; another similarity that made Ben's skin crawl.

Luke climbed up into the sandcrawler and sat next to Ben. His serious expression made him seem older than he actually was. Neither of them spoke for several long, uncomfortable moments.

"You haven't even told me you're sorry for my loss," said Luke.

Ben looked at him in surprise, noting the hard glint in Luke's eyes. It disturbed him for a moment, remembering all the times Anakin had challenged him, until he realized this wasn't the same at all. This was like Padmé when she'd demanded the Senate help her people all those years ago, not Anakin when he was being defiant. Ben relaxed. "Of course I am. But did you really need to hear it?"

Luke hung his head, swallowing. "I guess not."

Ben leaned forward to grip the boy's shoulder again. The sun was already dropping past the horizon, and he wrapped him up in one of the thermal blankets, as tenderly as he had when he'd first brought Luke to Tatooine as an infant. Luke stared up at him, wonder on his face. His fingers brushed over Ben's. Ben paused, realizing how gnarled and withered his hands were in comparison to Luke's strong, bronzed hands. His father's hands.

"Am I like him?" whispered Luke, his voice as soft as a baby je'ole. Ben had no doubt Luke was asking about his father.

Ben considered how to answer, slipping his fingers out from under Luke's, smiling sadly. He'd almost forgot how much he missed Anakin, until he'd found Luke in the Jundland Waste. Luke brought hope, but he also brought pain. "In some ways. In others, I think you're more like your mother."

"What was she like?" asked Luke eagerly.

"She was... one of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen. Your father was quite taken with her, and I could hardly blame him."

"Did you like her, too?"

Ben paused. He knew no way to explain that it had been Anakin he loved, that Padmé had turned every man's head but his. "I didn't know her as well as I did your father, but I considered her a friend," he said carefully.

Luke stared out of the gaping doorway. The two suns had set by now, and the twin moons cast long shadows across the sand. Off in the distance, Ben heard a krayt dragon cry. The inside of the sandcrawler whistled eerily as wind passed through it, but shafts of moonlight pierced through the holes the stormtroopers had made, making it seem more sad than frightening. It was easy to imagine ghosts of the dead haunting the dark corners, if Ben hadn't known any better.

"I wonder if she knew how to make the rytak dosas like Aunt Beru could," said Luke in a dull voice. "Or if she could make chocolate snapcakes. Or if she'd have read me stories at bedtime. Or combed my hair when I was little. Or let me crawl into bed with her when I had a nightmare. Aunt Beru did all that."

Ben tried to keep smiling, but it hurt too much. "Your mother never cooked a day in her life, but I'm sure she would have done all those other things, if she'd had the chance. And she'd be very grateful to your aunt for taking her place."

Luke drew his knees up to his chest, hugging them. He shivered, even though the thermal blanket hung about his shoulders. "I don't miss my mother," he said flatly. "But I do miss Aunt Beru."

"As is only right. You never knew your mother."

Ben settled back against the wall again, the cold of the metal seeping through his thin robes. Silence hung between him, so he pulled a blanket over himself and closed his eyes, preparing to sleep. Luke's voice startled him just before he drifted off, and he snapped his eyes open.

"Where are you from, Ben?"

"Coruscant. It's where the Jedi Temple was - or still is, though it's now a husk, a trophy of the Emperor's conquest."

"You were born there?"

"No. I was born on Hydaria, a watery planet on the edge of the Mid-Rim. I was taken to the Jedi Temple when I was two, and only went back once, during the Clone Wars. I didn't have a chance to sightsee then, I'm afraid."

"Funny, you being born on watery planet and winding up _here_. Was I born here, then?"

"You were born on one of the mining outposts of Polis Massa, a collection of asteroids in the Outer Rim. I brought you here myself, to stay with your aunt and uncle. They were very happy to have you. Beru had an... accident the year before, and they could never have children of their own."

Luke swiping his fingers over his eyes, though the glitter of his tears was still visible. "Your mother didn't mind them taking you away?" he asked.

"I assume so. I don't really remember her. She's no doubt dead by now."

Luke bowed his head, falling silent. After several moments, he began to shake. Snatches of what sounded like sobs escaped his lips. Ben knew what it was like to lose everything he'd ever loved, and he wished he could take Luke's pain away, wipe it clean, but he knew it was only beginning for him. It could only get harder from here, and Ben could do nothing but set him on the right path. Unable to express any words of comfort, Ben simply reached out and drew the youth into his arms, stroking Luke's hair. Luke clung to him, burying his face in Ben's shoulder, his fingers digging painfully into Ben's back.

The irony that Ben could so easily give the comfort of touch to Anakin's son, when he'd had so many difficulties giving it to Anakin, did not escape him.

Ben closed his eyes, resting his cheek against the top of Luke's head. His hair was coarse and thick, like Anakin's had been. He even smelled like Anakin, that spicy male scent that Ben always associated with the sun, though he could never quite explain why. Ben rubbed his cheek against Luke's hair, holding him close, feeling as if he were holding onto a closed power conduit. He drifted off, remembering a warm night spent in a small room many years ago.

_Anakin's fingers were still stroking his beard, and he stared at Obi-Wan with that strangely intent gaze of his - it was unnerving. "I don't want to. I _want_ to touch you. I want to know you're there, that you're alive. I need to know I'm not alone sometimes."_

It was hard to breathe. Obi-Wan could smell Anakin, nearly taste him, and it was becoming difficult to think clearly. He struggled for something to say. "You'll never be alone, Anakin. The Force will always be with you."

"Don't want the Force. Want you."

"Ben?"

Ben's eyes snapped open, surprised to feel Luke's hand awkwardly pressed against his groin. Luke's face was very close to his, breath warming Ben's cheek. Ben stared down at him, opening his mouth to ask what he was doing, but unable to form the words. Luke's cheeks were flushed pink, his eyes so bright it hurt to look directly at them, though Ben couldn't look away. His entire body was warm, his skin almost humming under Ben's fingertips.

"Sometimes, me and one of my friends..." Luke pressed his hand more insistently against Ben's groin, rubbing his palm against Ben's hardening cock. Ben didn't know whether to be humiliated by the arousal or not. He was frozen in place, Luke still fixed in his arms, unsure of what to do. He sensed if he said the wrong thing, he could hurt Luke grievously.

"I thought you might want to..." Luke licked his lip, clearly unsure of himself. "There are stories about you."

Ben gripped Luke's wrist, squeezing in warning. "I will not deny my persuasions have always run towards my own gender, but I'm not about to take advantage of a young man on the night after his family's death." He would not lie to Luke, at least not about this. He could feel the edge of the knife they stood on; it cut into the soles of his feet.

"I just want to... want to think about something else. I want to forget."

Ben paused, remembering that same desperate tone Anakin often took after all the killing was over, after the cities burned, and the battle droids finally stopped marching. Luke brought so much back, so much that Ben knew he'd rather have forgotten. Ben stroked the boy's face, remembering what Anakin's cheek felt like under his hand. Would he deny Luke the comfort he wanted when it was in his power to give it?

"Turn around," he whispered.

Luke obeyed, the blankets rustling as he moved. Ben brought Luke against him, pressing Luke's back to his chest, his palm against Luke's chest. Even through the thick cloth, Ben could feel Luke's heart pounding against his ribcage, almost as loudly as his own. He was too old for desire and youthful lust, and, to his relief, his erection quickly faded. He didn't want Luke to touch him. What Ben wanted, he could never have again, and instead, he'd simply give Luke what he wanted.

Ben ran his fingers through Luke's hair, forcing himself to remember this was _not_ Anakin. "Are you sure this is what you want, Luke?" he asked softly. The sound of his voice still startled him. It had once been a sweet tenor, but Tatooine had long since dried it out, along with the rest of him.

"Yes," said Luke, already sounding out of breath.

_This is not Anakin._

Ben left one hand in Luke's hair, gently massaging his scalp, his other running down Luke's chest, feeling the contours of chest and stomach through the rough cloth of his tunic. Luke sucked in his stomach, exhaling loudly when Ben's hand reached his waistband. Ben hesitated, but Luke suddenly seized his hand, sliding it inside his pants. Ben almost resisted, then relaxed when he felt familiar warmth and a waiting hardness. He listened to Luke gasp, feeling him squirm under the touch.

_This is not Anakin._

The feeling of power, untapped and temporarily contained, crackled under Ben's fingertips. He smelled sweat, felt Luke's chest heave against his. Luke nuzzled his nose against Ben's wrist as he stroked his hair, his hands gripping Ben's thighs. The feeling in Ben's hand felt like a memory come to life. Luke's head fell back against his shoulder, eyes closed, softly moaning.

_This is not Anakin._

Luke's skin felt feverish, his hair sweat-stuck to his brow. He thrust into Ben's hand, a rhythm well-known to both old and young men alike, his breath labored. Ben rubbed his cheek against Luke's hair again, overwhelmed by feelings he'd conquered long ago, but were determined to haunt him all the same, reminding him of past mistakes and lost chances. His chest ached, and his eyes stung, but when Luke came, he was ready. Luke sagged against him when he was done, boneless and half-asleep.

_This is not Anakin._

Ben wiped his hand on a handkerchief he kept inside his cloak, then cast it aside. Luke started at the movement of his arms, cheeks still flushed, eyes dark and dilated.

"Ben? Did you want me to...?" he asked sleepily.

"No, Luke. Rest now. We're both tired."

Luke turned around, snuggling comfortably against Ben's chest, his fingers curling around the edges of Ben's robes. He shuddered a little when Ben stroked his back and hair, muttering something Ben couldn't quite hear before drifting off again. He hoped Luke wouldn't dream, that he'd at least helped Luke forget his misery. He knew that by morning, at least, Luke would probably forget all about what had just happened or push it to some unimportant corner of his mind. In that, he would be far different than Anakin had been.

That night, however, all Ben Kenobi could do was remember.

_End._


End file.
